LUMPENPROLETARIAT Another musical legend has died, my brother reported to me some hours ago. If you are, like your author, an American of Latin American descent, then you knew of the musical legend Juan Gabriel. Many of us grew up with his hit songs, such as “Querida”, “No tengo dinero”, and “Siempre en mi mente”, not to mention the many hit songs he penned for others. “Amor Eterno” is a brilliant example, which became one of the late great Rocío Dúrcal‘s signature standards. Juan Gabriel is reported to have died of natural causes earlier today. [1] The world mourns, even Questlove (Late Night with Jimmy Fallon) took to Instagram to pay his respects.

Juan Gabriel was easily one of the most significant Mexican singer-songwriters of the late 20th and early 21st centuries, not just for defying gender roles and sexual norms in an uber–machista Mexican culture, but for the sheer influence of his musical contributions to Latin pop, ballads, and mariachi music.

[1] We suppose a heart attack at the age of 66 in 2016 in the USA is natural, disparities in our health care standards for celebrities and the wealthy versus the working classes notwithstanding.

[2] “Amor eterno” translates literally to love eternal, but the English language phrase would be commonly translated as eternal love. If memory serves me, Juan Gabriel wrote this song mourning the death of his mother. (We will translate lyrics from the Spanish to the English for our Spanish-learner readers as time constraints allow. Please help us by submitting any translations to Lumpenproletariathere.)

[3] “Enamorado” translates literally to enamoured, but the English language word would be commonly translated as in love.

[4] “Siempre en mi mente” translates to always on my mind.

[5] “Querida” translates into a gender neutral reference, loved one. But in the Spanish language, querida refers to a feminine object whereas querido refers to a masculine object. Notably, Juan Gabriel sings to a feminine object of romantic love. Like most of the world, societal norms weren’t ready for explicit declarations of same-gender romance. But Juan Gabriel pushed the envelope with his categorically effeminate vocal delivery and dramatic stage presence, which dared to bare a raw vulnerability and in so doing captured the hearts of Mexican audiences and music lovers everywhere. There seemed to be a quiet acceptance of Juan Gabriel’s eccentric personality because he was such an undeniably strong musical force and, thereby, a source of cultural pride for Mexicans and the Mexican diaspora.

[1] This video clip of the Chicano (i.e., American) accordionist legend Flaco Jiménez is taken from the 1976 film Chulas Fronteras. Flaco Jiménez has won a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award among the many accolades he’s earned as a musical treasure within, both, the Mexican and American songbooks, straddling the US-Mexico border musically and socially.

Flaco Jiménez’s song “Un Mojado Sin Licencia” is performed in this video clip, apparently, in 1975. But the song seems to have been originally recorded in the 1960s, as it has been re-released in 1993 by Arhoolie Records on the album Un Mojado Sin Licencia and Other Hits From the 1960s.

El mojado sin licencia translates to the wetback without a license, taking into consideration the idiom mojado, which translates to the English language idiom, wetback. (Mojado translates literally to wet one. Sin licencia translates literally to without license.) Of course, like the “n”-word, the term mojado (or wetback) is rather controversial because many of us grew up with Mexican and Chicano relatives using the word liberally to denote an immigrant who has crossed the US-Mexico border illegally. But, when people of other ethnicities use the word, particularly Euroamericans in the context of anti-immigrant racism, then the term obviously becomes a very loaded word.

The term mojado, for younger folks who may be unaware, comes from the descriptive labeling of an immigrant illegally crossing the US border from the south, which often involved crossing a river, such as El Rio Grande. Crossing a river to slip into the USA, meant one got wet, hence the term mojado, or wetback in the English.

(Flaco Jiménez goes by his nickname “Flaco”, which translates to slim or skinny in the English.)

One commentator has remarked about the music of David Záizar: “His songs are considered an integral part of the Mexican musical heritage and are comparable, for instance, to Woody Guthrie‘s (1912-1967) influence on American folk music.” Less accolade and historical knowledge seems to register in the English-speaking world regarding Juan Záizar’s life and times, despite his being the primary composer of the duo. The Záizar brothers performed as a duet since their teenage years. They also went on to pursue solo careers, after achieving great success as a duo. Contemporaries of legends of Mexican song, such as Pedro Infante (1917-1957), los hermanos Záizar achieved great fame in their own right throughout Mexico and, apparently, in other parts of the Spanish-speaking world, particularly Latin America.

David Záizar was known as the ‘king of the falsetto’, in his time. Miguel Aceves Mejía (1915-2006) seemed to have been displaced as rey del falsete by David Záizar. Aficionados of both giants of Mexican song formed rival camps and created some controversy over who was the true ‘king of the falsetto’. David Záizar’s interpretation of “La Malagueña” (1960) is one example of some falsetto vocal stylings, perhaps reminiscent of German yodeling:

“La Malagueña” (1960)

With the advent of Pandora and such, we can get a good listen to the Miguel Aceves Mejia back-catalogue. He’s a good singer. But there’s no question who is the superior vocalist. David Záizar manages to reach operatic levels of vocal ability, power, and subtlety, something for which few popular singers are known. But David Záizar easily ranks in that category, alongside the operatic legends of Mexican song, Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete (1911-1953). Sometimes vocal power was best conveyed in the softest crooning. Consider the huapango “Cucurrucucú paloma“.

Pedro Infante, like the brothers Záizar, sang standards, such as el vals ranchero “Paloma Negra“, composed by Tomás Méndez (1926-1995) and made famous as a signature song of Lola Beltrán (1932-1996). Memorably, the Academy Award-winning and Golden Globe-winning film Frida(2002), starring Salma Hayek (b. 1966), featured a particularly intense interpretation of the standard “Paloma Negra” by Chavela Vargas (1919-2012).

Of the brothers Záizar, it’s pretty safe to say David Záizar has always been like the John Lennon to Juan’s Paul McCartney, the slightly less popular one. C’est la vie. But what’s often forgotten is that that’s, probably, only because Juan Záizar (some three yours younger than his sibling, David) seems to have let his older brother take the lead in their duo. Juan Záizar was an accomplished singer in his own right. But his legacy seems most firmly rooted in his songwriting contributions. Juan Záizar is understood to have been the primary composer of the duo.

The songs made famous as part of the canon of los hermanos Záizar continue to be covered by many contemporary musicians, such as Los Invasores de Nuevo León, who covered, for example, “Mi Destino Fue Quererte“.

Another song, of many, which still lives on today in the canon of Mexican standards, “No Volvere” is always a monster hit at weddings, birthdays, baptisms, quinceañeras, or other random parties. Good times. (Although, the new mafioso tough attitude nowadays among modern Mexican banda hipsters, which is enthralled with Mexican cartel culture, is unfortunate because it laces people’s interpretations of such classic songs with a lamentable belligerence.) Everybody from Alicia Villareal (b. 1971) to Alejandro Fernández (b. 1971) have belted that one out, not to mention countless spirited friends and relations at sundry functions. That song is seared into your (author’s) brain from many a saucy traditional Mexican soirees hosting convergences of multiple extended families.